


Snippets from Life

by soren (sorensen), sorensen



Series: Secret Ascian Man [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Author uses any chance she can to talk about Machinist skills, Banter, Disconnected one-shots, Drinking, F/M, FFxivWrite2020, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Fishing, Friendly Bickering, Gratuitous use of bets, I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, Implied Sexual Content, Old Married Couple, Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal Spoilers, Training, Tumblr: FFXIVwrite, oops! all dialogue, who knows when this takes place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:00:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26198974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorensen/pseuds/soren, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorensen/pseuds/sorensen
Summary: Random disconnected drabbles and snippets that take place in Take This Secret With Me to the Grave-verse. Home of my FFXIVWrite prompts.“How is it possible that you can fight and fight and fight and never get tired,” Hades says with a grumble, blocking yet another of Phoebe’s attacks as she flips to the side, firing a bullet as she spins.“You know why,” she calls back, dodging Hades’ half-hearted swipe at her with a sword.
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Series: Secret Ascian Man [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1888237
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27
Collections: #FFxivWrite2020 Final Fantasy 30 Day Writing Challenge, Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched Bookclub FFXIV-Writes 2020 Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to try and do FFXIVWrite for September to try and get back into some good writing habits! Only I was impatient and hunted down last year's first prompt to get myself going. This one was 'Voracious' which leans really well into Phoebe's constant need to train and be ready for what comes at her.

“How is it possible that you can fight and fight and fight and never get  _ tired _ ,” Hades says with a grumble, blocking yet another of Phoebe’s attacks as she flips to the side, firing a bullet as she spins.

“You  _ know _ why,” she calls back, dodging Hades’ half-hearted swipe at her with a sword.

She’d pestered him into training with her to work on her short-range combat, and while Hades is barely attempting to do so, Phoebe is still spending her full effort. It’s not that Hades is a stronger fighter than her, because he  _ isn’t _ , it’s just that Phoebe is so busy seeking new maneuvers that the exchange balances out.

“When are you ever going to use that move in an actual fight,” he says, golden eyes rolling as she performs another flip to the side, continuing to drill the attack repeatedly.

“You’d be surprised,” she says, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath briefly. The world isn’t spinning, but it’s a near thing.

“Alright,” she says after a moment, “again.”

Hades sighs and pulls up a shield, “if you’re only going to be doing this spin attack thing, I hardly need to do anything-” he says, and she knows the moment he sees the calculating look in her eyes and the grin on her face when he adds, “No. Whatever you are thinking, no.”

“But the shield curves just right, if I account for the angles with my crossbow bolts, then-”

“No. Go back to your spin attack. I’m positive it’ll be useful now. Eventually. What if one day you need to, I don’t know,” he sighs and flails his hands for a moment, “dodge a fireball while continuing to attack?”

“Hmm… you’re right,” Phoebe replies, tightening the straps over the vials surrounding her waist and re-snugging the belts holding her boots in place, “but you’ll need to drop the shield if I wanted a non-moving target I’d attack a tree.”

“Remind me why you’re not doing this with your rapier-wielding friend?”

“Alisaie is going to practice with me later. Right now, she’s drilling her lunges.”

She didn’t miss Hades rolling his eyes at her response, “The two of you are nearly perfect for each other, why am I even here?”

“Yes, Alisaie might be the only person I’ve met who is nearly as voracious as I am about training, but she doesn’t have your endurance m’dear,” she replies with a wink and a smirk.

“If you wanted to test the limits of my endurance, I hardly think this is the location for it.”

“Hmm,” she says, considering, “my flexibility has been improving ever since I took on the life as a machinist. I haven’t seen you complaining.”

“Very well,” he says, golden eyes twinkling, “but I expect to reap the benefits of this later.”

“I’m not sure how I’d apply this move to the bedroom, but I’m interested to see what your thoughts are.”

“Why wait?” he asks, “We could try right now.”

“Not yet,” Phoebe responds with a laugh, “I’ve almost got this figured out.”

Hades sighs and mumbles something about ‘Why did I marry you, I could’ve married someone who thought about things other than fighting.’

“What was that, my dear husband?” she asks, pulling out her auto-turret, “You wanted to see if I could fire my auto-turret while I did this flip? Thank you, that’s an excellent idea.”


	2. Crux: FFXIV-Write Day 1!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We've entered the official start of FFXIV write now! Here's Day 1's entry: Crux. A lot of silliness to counter the super stressful day I actually had.

“You’re so dramatic,” she says abruptly while walking next to Hades.

“Excuse me?” Hades says, raising one arch eyebrow.

“You. With your,” Phoebe waves vaguely at all of Hades with her hand, whirling so she’s walking backward while Hades continues to trudge forward. 

Alphinaud is walking… behind? Ahead? If she’s walking backward then Alphinaud is still behind her even though he’s actually in front of her at the moment, right? Anyway - Alphinaud wouldn’t let her crash into anything, so it’s probably safe to keep walking backward. 

Still waving her hands wildly, she continues, “With your hair streak. There’s no way that would’ve been natural for Solus, so you must’ve tweaked his genes just so you could have a brief hint of,” she starts before pitching her voice lower to say his actual name, “Hades to him.”

“And doing so makes me ‘dramatic’?” He asks incredulously.

“Yes. Also that you keep forming empires. You’re the flashiest Ascian there is. You started a theatre company,” she says, ticking items off her fingers.

“You know very well I have never been one to do anything in half measures,” he says, contemplating her as if to say that she herself is a choice just as dramatic as anything else she’s mentioned.

She pouts, indignant, and replies, “Excuse me, I am the least dramatic decision you’ve ever made.”

“M’dear, you are the most dramatic thing in my existence. Before and the fall of Amaurot. You are conceivably more dramatic than the Doom was.”

“I am not!” She says, eyes wide, “Zodiark tempered most of our people, and Hydaelyn sundered our world. If anything Hydaelyn is the dramatic one, and I am a mere puppet whose strings have been pulled over and over.”

“Phoebe, don’t you turn into a raging berserker if you don’t get your way?” Alphinaud calls out from behind them.

“Slander! Whose side are you on, anyhow?” She glares back at him before turning to Hades and conspiratorily whispers, “Now you understand why Alisaie is my favorite Leveilleur.” Dropping her whisper she shouts, “Alisaie would never forsake me as such, would you?”

“Of course not. Emet-Selch is correct, but I would never throw you to the wolves like Alphinaud just did,” she says with a laugh from next to her brother.

Phoebe sends a glare Alisaie’s way. She should’ve known better. She’d trusted that Alphinaud wouldn’t let her walk into a tree, but she knows Alisaie would let her do it just for the laugh alone.

“I do not turn into a raging berserker if I ‘don’t get my way’, I… turn into a raging berserker when someone needs help and nobody does anything about it. There’s a big difference!” She’s practically shouting by the end of the sentence, and her shoulders slump when she sees that Hades’ own shoulders are shaking from suppressed laughter. Traitors, all of them. So what if she’s proving his point?

“...You’re the one who literally did not tell me they had made you Emet-Selch because you knew you’d have to pay up. I was already Azem. How long did you think you could hide that you’d joined the Convocation?”

“Phoebe, tree to your left,” Alphinaud says with a light laugh.

“Thank you Alphinaud, I will move you up from ‘second-worst’ to ‘third-worst’,” she replies while glancing over her shoulder to see the tree she’s approaching and adjust course to avoid it.

“I assume I’m the worst,” Emet-Selch says, shaking his head.

“Of course, darling. And don’t ignore my point! You waited until your first Convocation meeting to tell me they had promoted you, and even then, you didn’t tell me, Elidibus did when he introduced you to the group.”

“I don’t see how that makes me the more dramatic one.”

“We were already married at the time!”

“What??” Alisaie cuts in with a laugh, “I may need to side with Phoebe here, Emet-Selch is the more dramatic one.”

“No, it’s still Phoebe,” Alphinaud counters, “do you remember how long she hid being Azem from us?”

“Oooh, that’s a good point,” Alisaie replies with a nod, looking over at Phoebe as if to say ‘What else you got?’

Never one to turn down such an opportunity, she launches into another point.

“He didn’t even ask me to date him. He informed me we were now in a relationship while I was talking to Hythlodaeus. ‘By the way, if that nosy fiend is asking, we’re together,’ were his exact words.”

“I fail to understand how that makes me more dramatic than you. If I recall correctly, neither of us would even have reached that point if you hadn’t gotten so drunk from the punch bowl at the dance that you’d forgotten I was standing behind you and blurted out your feelings for me to the room.”

“And that’s why I’ll never drink anything blue colored again,” she says, nodding her head firmly, only to spin backward before Hades reaches out and steadies her.

“The ground is trying to kill me,” she says with a pout, glaring down at the divot in the ground that had sent her reeling, as Hades gently but firmly turns her to face forward.

“Yes, and  _ I _ am the dramatic one.”

“I knew you’d come around!” she replies, looking up at Hades brightly, even as he rolls his eyes and gently pushes her ahead of him.

“Yes, thanks to that hole in the ground, we’ve finally gotten to the crux of the matter, and accepted that  _ I _ am the dramatic one.”

“So you admit that you added the flair of white on purpose?” She asks, glee written in the smirk on her face and the tilt of her eyes.

“Fine. I will admit to intentionally altering Solus’ genes to include a streak of white.”

“Nooooo!” Alisaie calls out from behind them.

“Yessss! I told you so, Alisaie! The next round of desserts is on you!” Phoebe cackles as the elezen behind her slumps in defeat.

“Why, why, I keep asking myself…” Hades mumbles to himself, even as Phoebe continues to cackle so hard that Alphinaud seems vaguely concerned that she’s going to hurt herself from the way he hesitantly pulls out his codex.

“Oh, you know exactly why,” she says, voice lilting, “you lost a bet too!”

“Wait, you got married because you lost a bet?” Alphinaud’s astonished voice calls out.

“Yep! You see…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Writes and yeets it to AO3*
> 
> Consistency? Editing? WHAT ARE THESE THINGS. FFXIV Write says 'JUST POST 'EM!'


	3. Sway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Except she’s been here for nearly an hour, lurking by the food table, and Hades still hasn’t arrived. She’s already consumed what is likely far too many mini-sandwiches by the time she drinks the punch like it’s the only good left in her life. As she mentally curses Hades, Hythlodaeus, and Emmeroloth (who has also deserted her promptly upon arrival), she seriously considers that it might be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Tenkeyless, who I was supposed to write this for in erm, December? I don't think I *quite* nailed the prompt you originally gave me, but believe me - it has been stewing in this here brain all these months.

Dresses might be the worst thing Phe has ever dealt with. Forget some of the terrible spewing breaths that have come out of the creatures from Anyder, forget the time she waded into a bog to save a struggling chocobo, and come out smelling like a foul mix of feet and arse,  _ this _ dress she was wearing is the worst.

‘It complements your features,’ Emmeroloth had said as they’d gotten ready after she’d  _ insisted _ that ‘You cannot attend this event in your usual mud-caked boots, pants, and belts’ and forced her into this slim-fitting monstrosity.

To be fair, the dress itself wasn’t the monstrosity. It was the fact that  _ Phe  _ had to wear it. Gold, and tight-fitting around her waist and legs, it truly highlighted her complexion while sculpting her body in ways she had not previously considered possible. It was just the fact that in doing so, it also forbade her from making any natural movement. And the  _ thing _ Emmeroloth had laced her into around her waist, cackling all the way and insisting was the height of fashion, was even worse.  _ Fine _ , it pushes her breasts up rather pleasantly, but otherwise? It is a torture device disguised as an undergarment.

It was all Hythlodaeus’ fault. If she hadn’t had a “date,” Emmeroloth never would’ve insisted they get ready together, and thus, she would’ve been able to arrive in her in  _ perfectly comfortable _ clothing.  _ Why _ she’d let Hythlodaeus pressure (guilt) her into attending this with Hades, she’d never know. He’d been ridiculously eager to attend the function ever since he’d heard Elidibus would be performing during it, and the second she’d offered to make him her plus one, he’d insisted that she take Hades in his stead.

‘You’re both attending the event, you with  _ having to _ ,’ he’d said, voice and eyes firmly reminding her even through his mask that she  _ could not _ skip yet another Convocation function. She couldn’t use the excuse of not being in the city at the time  _ again _ after the last five times, ‘and with Hades attending on behalf of the Bureau of the Architect, you may as well attend together.’

Nothing she’d said had deterred him otherwise, up to and including that he mind his own nosy business and stay  _ out of _ her love life. Just because she’d come slumping into his office a  _ few times _ complaining that Hades never noticed her did not give him the right to get pushy until finally she’d relented and told him to tell Hades that she’d just meet him there.

Except she’s been here for nearly an hour, lurking by the food table, and Hades  _ still _ hasn’t arrived. She’s already consumed what is likely far too many mini-sandwiches by the time she drinks the punch like it’s the only good left in her life. As she mentally curses Hades, Hythlodaeus, and Emmeroloth (who has  _ also _ deserted her promptly upon arrival), she seriously considers that it might be.

The punch, in her defense, is also  _ perfect _ . She’s somewhere through her fourth glass of it before she realizes that either someone has spiked it (probably Emmeroloth. She  _ would _ find this amusing) and that whatever got added is  _ potent _ , or that she has apparently lost all tolerance for alcohol as she slowly sways from side to side as she considers the room.

She may be successfully playing off her movement as intentional. Elidibus  _ is _ playing a concerto on the other side of the ballroom, and the gentle melody is one that has several pairings dancing to in the open space in front of the stage. She wouldn’t be the  _ only _ one to forsake dancing itself, but be slightly carried away by the music.

She’s just considering a fifth glass of the punch and idly wondering if someone plans on refilling the bowl when she inevitably finishes it when Hades finally makes an appearance. It’s hard to miss his entrance, dramatic as he is by nature of being  _ himself _ even as he makes his way to the side of the room, forced to make idly chit chat along the way due to her being as far from the entrance as possible. It’s a small bit of revenge; she knows he  _ loathes _ making small talk almost as much as she enjoys putting him in situations where he’s forced to make it. His glare reaches her as soon as he spots her and is only matched by her own as she pointedly looks at the clock on the wall.

“Before you say anything, you can thank Hythlodaeus for my late arrival. He sends his love and apologizes for keeping me late, but that the creation we were investigating was unstable and required both our eyes.”

“I’m sure,” she says, grumpiness clear in her tone. Alcohol has always amplified her emotions, and despite being annoyed but otherwise content a moment before, she now broils.

“Come now, Azem-”

“ _ Phe _ ,” she all but hisses at him, “if you’re going to be my date to this function, the very least you could do is use my name Hades.”

“ _ Phe, _ ” he says back placatingly, which only causes her to seethe more in anger, “truly, I apologize for being so late.”

She squints at him, considering that he looks vaguely exhausted despite otherwise appearing as if he spent bells getting ready before letting go of her annoyance. Mostly.

“Fine,” she says, waving a hand, “but I’ll remember this the next time  _ you _ need someone to attend a function with you.”

“As I recall it from Hythlodaeus, you needed someone to attend this with you as much as I had needed someone to attend it with me.”

She glares at him again before throwing back the rest of her glass of punch. That fifth glass is suddenly calling her name. She’s pouring herself another glass when Hades reaches over and pours himself a drink as well, raising an eyebrow at the first sip.

“Whoever spiked the punch does nothing by halves. Neither do you, I can see, judging by how your tongue seems to be bluer than not.”

“What?” she says blankly.

“The punch is  _ blue _ m’dear,” he begins, and she squashes down the giddy part of her that tries to float away at his pet name, “and so is your tongue. It complements your hair nicely.”

“My hair is purple! And the punch has been more company to me tonight than you have!”

Hades sighs and looks around the room, and she’d like to think it’s at least a little desperately before he makes some excuse about talking to Mitron and hurries off.

It’s only a few minutes later that she feels guilty. Hades  _ had _ apologized, and she’d still snarked at him. She starts to head over to him before immediately realizing that that is a  _ bad _ idea. How long had the floor been this uneven? She must talk to someone about that. Probably Elidibus.

Swaying on her feet, she desperately looks around the room before finally spotting Emmeroloth, the troll.

“Emmeroloth!” She whispers (shouts), “get over here!”

She can see her friend excuse herself with a laugh before she walks over to Phe’s temporary home (the punch bowl.)

“Yes, Phe?” she asks like absolutely nothing is wrong in the world.

“Why is the world spinnninnnng?” Phe asks, reaching a hand out to steady herself on Emmeroloth.

“You’ve had one or two glasses of the punch, I’d guess.”

“Morelikefiveish,” she mumbles back, looking over at the crowd.

“Hades was late, I take it,” she asks, frowning slightly as her eyes flit through the crowd behind Phe.

“He got here about 15 minutes ago, I immediately scolded him, and why am I like this?” she moans, putting her head in her hands.

“One is never quite sane around one’s crush,” Emmeroloth responds sympathetically, patting her on the head.

“Nooooo, how do  _ you _ know?”

“Phe, darling,  _ everyone _ but Hades knows that you have a massive crush on him. You are the most blatant flirter I know.”

“Why isn’t  _ he _ getting it then? Or oh no, what if he knows, and he’s just ignoring it to be polite?”

“Hades is the most oblivious person I have ever met regarding seeing someone’s feelings for him. I’m fairly sure you’d have to say it right to his face before he’d notice.”

“And what? I’m supposed to just march up to him and be like ‘Hades, I’m in love with your stupid face, and I just want to run my hands through your stupid hair?’”

“Well, those aren’t the exact words I’d wished you’d have used,” he says, his voice coming from behind her.

“Emmeroloth.”

“Yes, Phe?”

“How long has he been standing behind me?”

“When he saw you swaying unsteadily, he started making his way back across the room. I’d say he’s been in earshot long enough to hear everything.”

“Why are you like this?”

“You wouldn’t have me any other way, my dear. Now, I shall excuse myself and leave you in Hades’ capable hands,” she says, voice questioning at the end.

Phe can only assume she receives the response she was looking for from Hades, as a moment later, Emmeroloth leaves, and Hades hesitantly lays his hand on her shoulder.

“Imfine,” she says in response, shaking his hand off and slowly turning around.

“We should get you some fresh air,” he responds, gently leading her toward one of the many terraces surrounding the room.

He guides her to a bench once they reach outside, and instantly Phe can feel her head beginning to clear ever so slightly. Being outdoors had always grounded her.

“Can we just pretend tonight never happened?” she asks quietly, glancing over at Hades from the corner of her eye.

“We could, but then I’d have to go back to not knowing how you felt about me, and that seems like a waste for us both.”

Silence follows his statement as she considers his words.

“Why did you agree to come with me tonight?” she asks, heart in her hands.

“I agreed because Hythlodaeus knew precisely how I felt about you, and in his vague way, he insisted that I might ‘finally get over myself and see what’s clear to everyone else’ as I believe he put it.”

“And what’s that?”

“You know,” he says, waving his hands at the two of them, “us.”

“ _ What _ about us?” she says insistently.

“That it is clear to everyone else that we’re both fools.”

“ _ Hades _ -” she begins, before he cuts her off with a kiss, and she supposes, answering her question at the same time.

“If anyone asks,” he says when they pull back minutes later, “ _ you _ confessed first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt was 'sway'! As you can see, it may or may not have inspired me to write the chapter about Phe confessing her feelings regarding Hades due to being real real drunk at the punch bowl.


	4. Muster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quickly yeeting this one out - sorry if it's a little messy! <3

Today, she can’t.

Once in a while, these days happen to her. She just wakes up and can’t muster the enthusiasm to be everyone’s hero. To be constantly perfect for fear of letting someone down, of letting the  _ Scions _ down.

She’s hiding away in her room in her apartment in The Mist, the one she lets be disastrous and messy. She has a ‘perfect’ house Shirogane for when she wants to have friends and visitors over. She loves it too, an adventurer friend having styled it for her, but it feels less  _ hers _ . It represents the days when she  _ can _ be the happy, boisterous Warrior of Light everyone needs her to be.

The apartment is entirely Phe. Random planters of (mostly) alive herbs and plants take up nearly as much space as the posters do, a testament to the botany skills necessary for her alchemy. Glittering potions and vials of all shapes and sizes adorn the surrounding area, their rainbows of color casting small prisms of color around the room when the light catches them. Each potion carefully labeled by her hand.

The corner dedicated to the profession is the only scrupulously clean area in the room. If there’s one thing that had been drilled into her by Loghrif, it was that a messy workspace was a dangerous workspace. Dirt and debris cause variations in results and while sometimes those results are stunning, most of the time they would turn a simple healing potion into a dud. That dud could mean someone’s life.

Dominating the other side of her room is two things. First, her massive four-poster bed. It’s far larger than is reasonable for the small apartment room and covered in the softest sheets and blankets she’s found in this life. In complete juxtaposition than her alchemy nook, it is a disaster. She has no intention of (ever) making the bed, but more than that it is near entirely covered in books. Books of all shapes, sizes, and bindings litter the bed and in piles upon piles surrounding it.

She’d like to say they cover all genres, but the truth is that they are mostly novels that tell of fantastical tales. The occasional history book can be found in the stacks, but having her memories of all her lives combined means that she already knows most information that found in them. Plenty of the books are romances, ones that she lets herself slide into during the long stretches of time when she hasn’t seen Hades.

Like now.

She’s only seen him once in recent times, and for barely a moment at that. He’d just saved Papalymo’s life for reasons she’s  _ still _ not entirely sure of. It’s been nearly a year since then, her trials and travels in Doma and Ala Mhigo consuming her every moment. She’s not sure what he’s been up to in the meantime, and while these long gaps in visits are often for his or her own safety, they usually also mean he’s up to something.

She’s not ready to fight him again.

Throwing the book she’s been attempting to read without success gently across the bed, she eyes the object taking up the other half of her room. A massive tub.

Maybe she’ll just spend the day in the bath.

She’s just reaching over to turn on the taps when she hears a fist slam on the door.

There’s only one person who knocks on her door as if they’re halfway to beating it down. Thancred. To be fair, she supposes that when she’s reading a book, she has a tendency to not hear anything below a boom. He may or may not have had to break down her door once to get her when there was an emergency.

“Hi,” she says, slumping against the door when she opens it.

She knows she’s a crumbled mess, her usually shiny purple and gold hair in knots around her shoulders. There’s likely to be bags under her eyes from the book she’d stayed up way too late reading the night before, only to be awoken hours later by someone practicing their flute. Badly.

Thancred takes one look at her, grimaces, and appears to change his mind about whatever he’s about to say. He knows these days. He’s had plenty of these days himself after Lahabrea. It’s an unspoken rule between the two of them that they periodically check on one another when nobody has seen either of them for a few days.

“Put some pants on, ‘Bee, we’re going to the bar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not have spent my writing time last night working on the Emet-Selch bot for the Discord. Whoooops.........


	5. Clinch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A follow-up to last chapter! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEETS THE CHAPTER at 1:45 before 2pm deadline. (I know there's no deadline the first week but also I NEED TO KEEP THE DEADLINE PERSONALLY).

“Thancred. Thancred. I know you’ve been through a lot-”

“‘Bee I am entirely aware of where we are.”

“But this is  _ not _ a bar,” she finishes anyway, looking out at the lake in front of them. It’s a picturesque day, just the right temperature for the shorts and shirt Thancred had convinced her were necessary for the ‘bar’. She’s admiring the way the sun and clouds glint off the lake in front of them when he crams a sun-hat on her head.

“Not quite my usual brand,” she says, referring to the wrangler’s hat that she rarely takes off, “but I suppose it’ll do,” she finishes, tilting the large floppy brim back so she can see.

“Today, we’re going to fish.”

“I mean, normally we drink  _ like _ fishes-”

“We can still do that,” Thancred says, waving a bottle of alcohol in front of her, “but mostly we will be fishing, and I’ll let you prattle on about whatever’s bothering you.”

“Why Thancred, you’re too kind,” she says with a laugh while trekking carefully down the small hill that leads to the lake.

There’s two fishing poles already leaning against a small rowboat, and a small picnic basket awaits nearby.

“Why Thancred, did you  _ plan _ this?” she asks, only lightly teasing. While she and Thancred aren’t  _ not _ close, the time they spend together is usually far more aimed toward a bar or a battle. Sometimes one and then the other. In no particular order.

“That’s Tataru’s work,” he says with an eye toward the picnic basket, “she heard I was coming to drag you out of your apartment and insisted on providing “a wholesome meal for once”, probably an attempt to keep us from stumbling into the Rising Stones like drunken fools.”

“Oooh, Tataru’s sandwiches are the best. I don’t know how she does it, because believe me, I’ve tried to make them  _ exactly _ the way she does, and they never come out quite the same.”

They both (somehow) get into the rowboat and load it with the supplies without tipping it over, Thancred taking command over the oars, leaving Phoebe to just admire the gently swaying trees from the faint breeze.

It’s not until they’re at the center of the lake before Thancred speaks again, popping the cork out of the bottle and taking a long swig of its content before doing so. He’s handing the bottle to her when he says, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for everything that happened in Doma, and in Ala Mhigo afterward.”

“No- Thancred, what you were doing was just as important as anything the rest of us were doing.”

“Hah!” He snorts, “necessary, but perhaps not as important as liberating two nations from Garlean rule.”

“All of which would’ve been  _ much harder _ without the Garlean’s being in disarray, thanks to  _ your _ work!”

“Fine, fine,” he says, snatching the bottle back from her hands. Its content had been spilled partially about during her protests, hands having been waving energetically.

“And we are not here to talk about  _ me _ , anyhow. Today we are going to fish, and you are going to tell  _ me _ what has been bothering  _ you. _ ”

Thancred hands her a fishing pole and places a box of baits in between them.

“I bet I can do a perfect clinch knot faster than you can,” she says, hand beginning to reach for the baits.

“I don’t doubt you can,” he says, slapping her hand away, “but  _ I _ get a head-start. As I recall it, you’re a master fisher? How does the Warrior of Light even find  _ time _ to fish?” he asks, reaching for the lure she’s had her eye on.

“They needed help. I need to provide it, simple as that.”

Thancred has his knot nearly half tied before he allows her to reach for her own lure, gesturing for her to go ahead.

“Done,” she says seconds later.

“What- how?”

“I don’t like to lose,” she says with a wicked grin.

“Is that why you make so many bets?” He asks while idly casting his line. He’s not using any bait other than the lure, so she does the same when she casts her line.

“Something like that. I’ve told you about how this isn’t exactly my first life, and how I’m… married.”

“You did. I still don’t entirely understand how that works.”

“Hydaelyn, basically,” she says dismissively. It’s not something she really wants to get into, the subject an even darker pit of despair than the one she’s already delving into, “but you know how when someone asks me for help, I  _ have _ to help?”

“I’m sure all of Eorzea has realized that by now, yes,” his words are teasing, so she sticks her tongue out at him before continuing.

“My husband long before we were ‘married’ realized what a burden it was. He started making bets with me that had no real consequence on anything. It was a way to put the enjoyment at having  _ done _ something well and quickly back into doing anything. I’ve  _ never _ liked to lose, but that has nothing to do with the fact that I  _ have _ to help people, and he saw that. Soon my other friends began picking up on it, and it wasn’t uncommon for me to have several bets going on at once.”

She smiles faintly at the memories, faintly recalling the dozens of times when Hades, Hythlodaeus, Loghrif, and Emmeroloth had all conspired against her in a bet. Later on, there had been others in Aniel, Lahabrea, and Halmarut, but for a long time as Azem she had been too much an outsider for the others in Amaurot to take the time to be friends with her.

“You miss them?”

“I do. Some days more than others. I can see a lot of them again in people I’ve met in the lives since then.”

“You lose them again though, don’t you?” He asks, picking up their bottle of alcohol and passing it back her way again.

She takes a long sip before continuing, “I do. Some days are harder than others. Right now, it’s a harder time. It has been…  _ awhile _ since I’ve seen my husband, and I suppose you could say I miss him. Honestly, I don’t even know if that’s a strong enough word. We’re two halves of a whole and I have been without the other half of me for a long, long,  _ long _ time.”

“I’m sorry,” Thancred says with a sigh, “things are different this time though, right? You mentioned after Lahabrea,” he says, voice not mildly tinged in distaste, “that things are different?

“They are,” she begins with a sad smile, “things are moving quickly now, it seems. Elidibus appeared in front of Minfilia. Lahabrea, Nabriales, and Igyerom defeated.  _ Something _ has changed, but I truly do not know what.”

“Well,” he says, nodding at her to take another sip and pass the bottle back to him, “here’s to hoping that whatever changed has changed for the better.”

“I think it has, Thancred. I think it has.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thancred begins reeling in his fish while she pouts at his having caught one first, only for it to be a minnow. Phoebe laughs so hard that she falls out of the boat. :D


	6. Matter of Fact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phoebe awakens to Hades scolding her after the battle with Zenos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not waste time in using 'Matter of Fact' in this chapter, hahahaha.

"It's a matter of fact that if I leave you alone long enough, you inevitably get into some mortal peril and survive by the skin of your teeth," Hades says, looking down at Phoebe from her position in bed in what seems to be Ishgard.

"To be fair," Phoebe begins with a slight cough, and she doesn't miss the frown that crosses his face when she does, "something was distracting me."

There’s a moment before he replies, still firmly focused on the bandages wrapped around her torso. She feels stiff, stiffer than she can remember being in quite a while, so whatever strike Zenos must have served her had to have been big.

Hades also seems…  _ unsettled _ more than she can recall him having been in this life. She struggles to sit up before he reaches down and helps her sit up, all but glaring at her while he does so.

"Yes, I can imagine that when facing your greatest  _ foe," _ and he spits out the word because they both know who Zenos really is, and Hades blames himself for Zenos, "in this life risen from the grave that  _ something else  _ would be on your mind," he replies with what she's sure is every bit of sarcasm he might load onto a sentence.

"They're all.. gone now," she replies, not granting him the fight he's seeking. Every bit of energy drains out of her at her quiet response.  _ Alisaie. Alisaie _ was gone now. And it's not that she doesn't love the others, because she does, but Alisaie is her best friend. They had  _ promised _ not to part, and she'd just been forced to watch as domino by domino, all her friends had fallen into that sleep.

Alisaie falling hurts her in a way she hasn’t in a long, long time. Perhaps during the last fight she’d had with Emmeroloth. When she’d  _ begged _ her friend to listen to her, to heed her words that summoning Zodiark would not solve the problem the way they were thinking. One by one her friends had turned away from her, but Emmeroloth had been the last. The one that had cut the deepest.

"She's fine," Hades replies, stirring her from her melancholy. He’s let go of most of his anger at her words, fury replaced by what can only be a combination of exhaustion and worry.

"Hades, no, you're not supposed to tell me what's happening to them, you know that."

"And I'm supposed to just let you die again then? Let you be so distracted by what is calling to you, that you fall  _ again _ and to-"

" _ Yes, _ " she hisses at him. They have done this time and time again. Why is he  _ now _ suddenly so stubborn?

"No," he says back, but he doesn't elaborate on his reply.

She frowns back at him in response, brows furrowed as she studies him. He's looking at her, but Hades seems entirely lost in thought, eyes staring through her rather than at her.

"I was right, wasn't I," she says, reaching out one hand toward his own, pulling his attention back to her, "something is different about this life, something you can't tell me, but it has you acting…  _ differently _ , and whatever it is,  _ please promise me you'll be safe _ ."

She's not above begging him, but she knows it won't matter the second she looks up at his face. She can't imagine, can't possibly imagine what it has been like for him. He has watched her die a dozen dozen times, all with the belief that they are doing the right thing. That  _ she _ is doing the right thing. Because while she knows that Hades believes in what they are doing, she’s not sure if he would’ve done it without her. If she hadn’t been present to remind him of all the lives at stake other than just their people in Amaurot, if she hadn’t pleaded with him to just  _ listen _ to her and think about what they were doing.

She's honestly not sure she  _ could  _ do it in his place. As hard as it is for her to go through everything she does over and over she cannot possibly imagine what it would be like to lose Hades over and over thus. To have to had watched Hades sacrifice himself in aid of summoning a primal without the guarantee he would be back? Unimaginable.

What has been like to find her only to lose her again, to how he has had to  _ kill her _ ? Every time she has fought him it has been knowing that he would just teleport away when it got too dangerous, she's never really had to  _ worry _ that she would kill him permanently, but him? Oh, he's killed her more than once, never with any real guarantee that she would be back.

"Hades,  _ please, _ " she says begs again anyway, and she knows her words edge on tears when he leans down to press a kiss against her forehead, "please be safe."

"When have I ever not been?" He replies with feigned confidence, "I merely told you a fact that you'll find out yourself soon enough. Your allies are neither here nor there to me, but I will not allow you to add your worry for them on top of everything else."

He pulls away from her when they hear someone else approaching in the hall, "I'll be off then m'dear. I expect I'll see you again soon enough."

The bastard is opening a portal and walking through it before she can even reply.

She doesn't fail to notice that he didn't even attempt to agree to be safe. While she's relieved to hear that her friends are some version of safe, she doesn't think he realizes that her worry for  _ him _ is greater than all of them combined. It's not that she doesn't love her friends and would be heartbroken to lose them, but they are not the other half of her heart.

Losing him? It would break her entirely. She swallows down the tear and the lump in her throat at the very thought of it as she slumps back down to the bed, feigning slumber once more.


	7. Infuriating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surely Hades and Alisaie discussing a *list* of the things Phoebe is bad at can't possibly come back to bite her in the arse later, can it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today was a free day! My favorite (and only) twinsie from another mother Nightmist chose this prompt for me, "infuriating". Naturally, it had to involve not only Alisaie but Hades as well.

"You're infuriating. There  _ has  _ to be something you're not good at and mark my words, I  _ will _ find out what it is!" Alisaie states hotly, looking down at the triple triad table in front of them.

Phoebe has just beaten Alisaie at 9 out of 10 rounds straight. Her friend had accosted her the moment she'd left the room in Alisaie's latest attempt to beat her, pushing her back in the room and promptly unfolding the mat she'd fashioned onto her table.

"A year. An entire year I had of practicing while a mere week passed for you. Unbelievable."

"If you want to beat her at something-" a voice drawls from the direction of Phoebe's bed, as a rumbled Hades sits up.

"Traitor!" Phoebe calls just as Alisaie also shouts "I DO!"

Phoebe at least gets a small bit of revenge when Alisaie twists to look at him as well and turns bright red. Hades isn't exactly wearing… well, anything, but fortunately, the blanket covers his lower half.

"Uh- clothes? You should- Clothes?"

Hades merely cocks an eyebrow at her before he points out, "You realize I've been here the entire time?"

“That was- you were-”

“Darling,” Phoebe says, reaching a hand over to cover Alisaie’s eyes, “take pity on Alisaie and put something on?”

Fortunately for Alisaie, Hades rolls his eyes and snaps his fingers, leaving him dressed in a simple white shirt and probably pants.  _ Probably _ because there’s a decent chance Hades has realized that Alisaie can’t see him below the waist and still refused to wear pants.

“Considering what happened the last time you threw yourself into Phe’s rooms without care, one would think you’d have reconsidered doing so since then.”

Alisaie hesitantly pushes down her hand before replying, “The last time I found out that Phoebe was married to an Ascian-”

“ _ Ancient _ .”

“And I hardly think that was an adverse outcome,  _ especially _ if this time I finally learn something Phoebe  _ isn’t _ good at.”

“There’s a list,” he begins, smirk reappearing, and Phoebe sighs.  _ Of course, _ Hades has indexed a list of every single thing she’s rotten at.

“Oho, do tell,” Alisaie perks up, pulling out a piece of paper and ink from  _ somewhere _ , and she’s briefly concerned that Alisaie might have creation powers. Seriously, the paper, quill, and ink had just  _ appeared _ in her hands, she could swear to Hydaelyn.

“Laundry. Hand-writing. Filing reports.”

“Is  _ that _ why Alphinaud files all your reports? Do you just never speak during meetings so you don’t have to file any reports?” Alisaie asks like the skies are opening up above her and the sun is shining.

“Perhaps,” she replies, glaring daggers at her husband who is continuing on without a care.

“Cleaning - you should  _ see _ her apartment.”

“Last time I’m inviting  _ you _ over,” she mumbles in response, “you can stay at the house instead by yourself.”

“You have an apartment?” Alisaie asks instead, looking briefly hurt.

“Yes, and it’s a natural disaster,” Hades replies, “you should consider yourself fortunate  _ not _ to have spent any time there. The last time I slept there, I woke up with a book practically impaled in my spine from having slept on it. Not to mention the books that I somehow ended up  _ under _ , which you still have not explained, Phe.”

“I couldn’t sleep and I ran out of places to put my books when I finished them. You weren’t moving much.”

“So you pilled them on your poor, exhausted husband. Naturally.”

She shrugs in response to say ‘Yes?’ and Hades considers her briefly before going back to his list, “drawing,  _ walking to a place rather than teleporting _ -”

“It’s a waste of my time. Why would I walk when I can just teleport there?”

“Saving money-”

“Hah! You and Alphinaud both,” Alisaie cackles, and studies Phoebe carefully.

“And losing. It mayhap is a fortunate thing that you have  _ not _ experienced her losing frequently, because she is quite terrible at doing so.”

“I need not be a good loser if I don’t do it often,” she grumbles in response.

“I bet that the next time we travel, you’ll teleport to get to a location before I do. Whoever walks longer is the winner.”

“ _ Alisaie, _ ” Phoebe whines in response, “that’s just  _ cruel _ .”

“No, I don’t think so,” she says, grinning wickedly, “you’ll be required to save money  _ and _ walk, I think it’s perfect honestly.”

“That’s what you think now,” Hades drawls, “you haven’t heard how spectacular she is at  _ whining _ yet.”

“You two are the worst. I’m going to get a sandwich and neither of you is invited.”

It isn’t until Phoebe is out of her room and down the hall that she considers that leaving the two of them alone together was probably a bad idea. She  _ could _ go back, but the sandwich is calling her name. How much trouble could the two of them get into together, anyway?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Dun dun dun*.


	8. Nonagenarian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a follow up to the last chapter, Alisaie and Emet-Selch have been left alone in the room. What can go wrong? Or in which instead, a conversation about who Phoebe is occurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's word was 'nonagenarian'! Which I had... an extremely difficult time trying to figure out how to use. The goal was to have Alisaie call Emet-Selch a fussy nonagenarian, and somehow I ended up with this instead.

When Phe leaves the room, an awkward silence follows. Alisaie is idly toying with her triple triad cards as Emet-Selch summons a cup of tea to sip at.

“Did you  _ create _ the cup of tea, or did someone somewhere just brew a cup of tea and it’s now missing?” Alisaie asks, looking at him with no small amount of consideration. She’s not  _ judging, _ but it’s fascinating on a certain level.

“It depends on what I need,” Emet-Selch replies idly, “with this body, I chose one that was no longer being used and then fashioned it into this form. In the tea's case, I created it from the ambient aether in the area. It’s not as good as it would’ve been if Phoebe had brewed a cup by hand, but then there is the choice of would I rather have the tea at this moment or have an admittedly sub-par cup now.”

Alisaie scrunches up her nose as she considers. This is really more in Alphinaud’s realm of scholarly interest, but her curiosity gets the better of her.

“What makes a brewed cup better?”

“If I was being flowery, I’d say care. However, the truth of it is that it’s difficult to get everything exactly right. In order to ‘create’ a thing from the aether, I have to know how it is made. While I know how to make my preferred cup of tea - black, with a splash of cream and too much sugar, I do not know necessarily what goes into making  _ those _ items. The temperature of the water also must be accurate. While I know much of that, anything being off means the flavor is off.”

“That’s much more complex than I was imagining.”

“There is a reason that any Amaurotine attempting a new creation once upon a time had to submit a ‘blueprint’ of their concept before attempting to create it. The slightest deviance from that blueprint - imagining milk instead of cream would be harmless enough, but say my mind slipped to the buffalo itself and I have now created a different thing entirely.”

“Not just anyone had the ability to create than I’m guessing?” Alisaie asks, frowning.

“No. Many of our people could, but a not-small portion of the population did not have the skill nor inclination to do so. There were others such as Phe for example, who were more inclined to create an item by hand rather than ‘create’ it.”

She mulls on that for a moment, before leaping to another subject entirely, “You still call her Phe?”

Emet-Selch raises an eyebrow at the abrupt subject change but seems to be willing to allow it when he responds, “Yes. She  _ is _ Phe, just as much as she is ‘Phoebe’. The name she is called by may change from one lifetime to another, but she will always be ‘Phe’.”

“ _ Is _ she Phoebe though?”

“I’m uncertain I understand what you’re asking,” Emet-Selch says, putting down his cup.

“She regains her memories every lifetime, she mentioned. How much of her is still ‘Phoebe’ after that, and how much of her is just… lost when she gains her memories?”

“Are there other versions of ‘Alisaie’ running about somewhere?” Hades replies.

“No? Or- well, I suppose there’s my body back on the Source-”

“No, no. What I mean to say is that as  _ you _ gain fresh memories, part of you is not ‘lost’ is it? You may  _ change _ as you gain new experiences, but you do not stop being who you are.”

“That’s not really the same thing,” she replies stubbornly.

“Not entirely, no. However, I will say that Phe is always ‘Phe’. Had you met her when she was still just ‘Phoebe’, she’d still be mostly the woman you know now. A trifle less serious perhaps, but one can attribute that just as much to the experiences she’s gone through as the Warrior of Light as much as anything else. Who she is at her essence is the woman you know and rarely does that diverge.”

“But she  _ does _ sometimes change then.”

“Yes. There have been lives where she has been treated… cruelly,” Hades begins, brows furrowing in anger, “where she has suffered more than in others. But given the opportunity to help others, to cling to the people she loves with her entire being, to fight and protect what she cares about? She  _ always _ shines true. Phoebe is Phe as much as Phe is Phoebe, and the hundreds of other lives she has lived since then.”

“Does she ever live long enough to become a cranky nonagenarian?” Alisaie asks softly, but not without mirth. She can just see Phoebe still wearing her old dusty hat, just rocking away on a porch, tending to a little garden.

“Rarely, no. There’s a piece of her on another shard that is steadily reaching his way toward it, but she is too  _ her _ , too willing to throw herself into some mortal peril to live a long life.”

“Do you care for the other shards of her too?”

“Yes, and no. My double-life, such as it is, means that I cannot spend too much time with any ‘one’ person.”

“That seems… unfair. To you. Or to them. Both?”

“Nobody ever said that our lives were fair,” Emet-Selch’s reply comes just as Phoebe bursts back into the room, mouth stuffed full of a sandwich, arms juggling a nearly alarming array of items. She’s somehow balancing a plate holding an entire tea set, while also holding another plate of sandwiches. How she’d gotten the  _ door _ open is mildly concerning.

Phoebe sets the items down, swallowing a too-large bite of her sandwich before looking back and forth between herself and Emet-Selch, “I somehow expected to return to puddles of blood or piles of feathers from whatever pillow Alisaie had thrown at you at the very least. I’m almost disappointed. What  _ have _ you been discussing?”

“Oh, we were nearly there,” Emet-Selch drawls, eyeing the teapot, “I was just pointing out that your elezen friend here seems to have forgotten that upon reaching adolescence, their kind typically  _ grows _ -”

“I  _ have _ grown!” She points out, “I’m taller than Alphinaud now, and nearly the same height as Phoebe.”

“Phoebe is the smallest miqo’te I have ever had the pleasure of meeting-”

“Thank you,” Phoebe chimes in with a smile.

“And so I hardly think that is an accomplishment.”

“At least I  _ know _ how tall I am, do you even know how tall Solus was, or did they just take his measurement all hunched over like you are?”

“Ahh,” Phoebe says, leaning back with a smile and taking another bite out of her sandwich, “there was the bickering I was expecting.”


	9. Clamor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SO MANY 5.3 SPOILERS.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5.3 spoilers galoreeeee!

When she announces that she will step down from the Convocation, there is no cacophony, no clamor from the other thirteen to stop her. While they do not  _ expect it _ , for no member of the fourteen has ever ‘stepped down’ because of disagreement, her vehement opposition of their plan to summon a being to save them from this Doom has been clear from the first time it is brought up.

She is  _ Azem _ , never could she simply allow the people she is friends with, allies with to be  _ sacrificed _ for their own purposes. The sheer audacity of their plan offends her to her core. For the people of  _ Amaurot _ they are to be sacrificed, as if the Convocation has forgotten that part of their very purpose is to watch over the life outside the city, as if her  _ entire _ purpose as the Wanderer is not to do as such.

She does not leave her title vacant. She takes it with her. She  _ is _ Azem. The role of  _ Azem _ has withdrawn from the Convocation. Regardless of whatever they do if they follow through with this foolish,  _ desperate _ plan, there will no longer be an Azem.

As she eyes the remaining members, her eyes meeting every one of them. Elidibus is not here. He has already become the heart of this being they plan to summon. These people are her  _ family _ . Lahabrea, practically a brother. Loghrif, her mentor. Mitron, always the one to lend an ear. Halmarut, who has looked up to her for so long… Emmeroloth. Her best friend. They’ve been two of a kind for as long as she can remember, and now she won’t even meet her gaze.

The others remain steadfast, determined. She does not blame them, but she cannot forgive them for the choice they are making.

Fand stands there, Aniel no longer at his side, and  _ him _ , him she cannot blame. Since they’d lost Aniel he has been half-crazed and  _ desperate _ for anything to bring her back to him. She knows he would throw himself at anything if it meant he’d be able to see her again.

Hades. HadesHadesHades. He who bears the burden of truth. Her husband. Her other half. He  _ knows _ her words reveal only the truth. She will  _ not _ stand by and do nothing while they make this choice to damn the world for themselves. He can  _ see _ the Lifestream, he  _ knows _ that the Doom comes from within just as she does, just as Hythlodaeus has been warning the council for nearly a century, and headless have they been of his warnings.

Walking away from the Council is easy. She  _ knows _ she is doing the right thing.

But walking away from Hades? That will  _ never _ feel like the right thing. Walking away from Hades comes with a pain that cannot be described. The deaths of the forms she has held while serving as Azem are incomparable to this. She’s known this was coming, has faced fight after fight with him, not only in these once hallowed halls but in the chambers of their own home, has tried to steel her heart against this pain but it has been in vain.

For a day she lives with her heart crushes to pieces, only able to keep herself together because there are more important things falling apart than herself. She needs to save  _ everyone, _ needs to save their world and she can’t  _ reach  _ Venat who  _ might _ have a better idea than this foolhardy summoning, and  _ nothing _ she is doing is helping. She spends the day frantically trying to reach her allies outside the city, but they are just as determined to do what they can outside the city as she is to try to aid from within.

“ _ Phe _ ,” she hears his voice call.

Before this moment she would’ve sworn it was impossible for him to be as broken as she is,  _ she _ had been forced to walk away from him; he was the one who had said-

But none of that matters.

For the Hades in front of her is just as shattered as she is.

“ _ Hades _ ,” she whispers back.

He doesn’t have to say the words. He is  _ here, _ and that is all that matters. He hasn’t been here in days, since she told him he had no right to be in their home if he will sacrifice the very people  _ she _ had sacrificed herself for time and time again.

“What do you need?” He asks.

In his words is an apology. They are an ‘I’m sorry’, and ‘I love you’, and everything she has been desperate to hear.

She pauses before she replies. For what she needs to ask him to do is  _ not _ kind, nor loving, or apologetic. It is an end to them just as much as if he had never walked back into their home, but crueler. If he had  _ detested  _ her, if he had thought he was right, then it would be easier, perhaps. Easier for him to take the actions he’ll need for this.

“I need you to hate me.”


	10. Avail

Every life she has lived until now, she’s worked for a solution to the problem of Zodiark to no avail. Countless are the lives she has lived leading to this point - every piece of her soul forcibly rejoined during a calamity, another jolt of lives lead fruitlessly fighting for  _ something _ , even when they couldn’t remember the  _ why _ .

Ardbert and the Warrior slain to the mind-flayers, the soul she’d regained during the last calamity… three pieces of her soul have been regained in just this life. It’s a lot - it’s  _ too much _ , every rejoining of her soul a change to make room for the fresh memories of their lives to her own, to the pieces of ‘Phe’ she regains.

She’s inadvertently broken a teacup Alphinaud has just handed her. She’d just been trying to take a sip, must have held onto it too firmly when he’d asked her about Eulmore and she’d had a surge of the need to  _ destroy _ Vauthry… and there had gone the cup.

Alphinaud fusses about the tea, worried it will scald her, and a laugh tumbles out of her.

“Alphinaud, I’ve fought Ifrit - I think a little spilled tea is low on my list of concerns,”

Still, he fusses, and she feels the anger melt out of her. Seen the reminder that even if she’d faced greater pains, it does not mean the one she is feeling is not worth care. Even if the lives she’s living on other shards do not bring an end to Zodiark, it does not mean their lives lived fighting have been without worth.

She laughs when he insists on healing the wound, even though he knows as much as she does that the burn will fade within the hour regardless, but that is her friend, determined to soothe her hurts no matter how long (or how little) they will linger.

She doesn’t give him enough credit - Alphinaud that is. For all the Alisaie is her closest friend, Alphinaud is one of her oldest in this life. Thancred had found her, yes, had been the one to bring her to the Scions, but it is Alphinaud that brings a balance to her life. Alphinaud who can see the days when she needs a friend and the days when she needs some quiet.

Thanking him when he’s done and protesting fruitlessly when he runs off to get another cup for her, she smiles as she can see him, arms waving as she’s sure he’s telling a version of what happened that places no blame on her at all.

When she leans back in her chair, studying him, she’s reminded of  _ why _ she fights the fight she does. Not just for herself, or to free Hades from the position he precariously lives in, or even for the world - but for the individual people she has met along the way. She doesn’t have the answer for  _ how _ to save them, not just yet, but she thinks that might just be alright. She doesn’t need the answer today, or right now.

Good things come to those who wait after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I missed a day, whoooops. 'Lush' coming to a fic near you on Sunday!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Bookclub! Without you I wouldn't have known about FFXIVwrite and I was needing some nice low-pressure prompts. Thank you for always being wholesome, enabling, and as ever, debauched.
> 
> If you're interested in hitting up the Bookclub yourself, check out [ https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic). We love writers AND readers of fanfics! <3


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